


On Display

by peacherine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Curtain Fic, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Furniture Shopping, IKEA, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moving In Together, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacherine/pseuds/peacherine
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke are moving in together and are hunting for new furniture. They find an amazing new sofa, and Bellamy can’t wait to break it in.He literally can't wait.





	On Display

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The 100 Wtfluff](https://the100whatthefluff.tumblr.com)  
Tropes: Curtain fic but with sex in public. Loosely inspired by [this webcomic](https://66.media.tumblr.com/fe841c418c537a77166c902f2e952e37/tumblr_psz3hzH0rp1vh2w7o_1280.jpg) although nowhere near as salacious lol (link to NSFW image)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Silk or cotton?”

Clarke tilts her head, unsure whether this is a trick question or not. “Uhhh.. are we talking about lingerie or..?”

“No, dumbass. Curtains. You said you wanted new ones, so I’ve got it on my list.”

Bellamy has a list. It was so unlike him to be this organised, to itemise everything he needed. Usually that was Clarke’s expertise - normally Bellamy would stride into any store, a vague idea of what he wants but ultimately gets carried away and ends up buying far too many things that are not needed in any capacity. But today he has a list, separated into categories, with little notes in the column and star doodles around the edges. It speaks volumes about just how excited he is for this IKEA adventure.

She peers over his shoulder. “Do we really need this soap dish? What’s wrong with liquid soap?”

“Well.. for starters, the dispensers are plastic waste. Cakes of soap are just as effective,” he declares, picking up the soap dish in question. “Plus the design is nice. This shade of blue matches with the towels and stuff.”

“Design? Matching colours?” Clarke laughs and pokes him in the shoulder. “Stop the press, Bellamy ‘whatever-the-hell-we-want Blake’ cares about interior decor!”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say princess.” Bellamy picks up his list again. “Right. So we have the bathroom sorted...” he pencils in a few ticks on his notepad, furrowing his brow in concentration. Clarke has the sudden urge to run her thumb along his nose, smooth out the stress and press light kisses to his forehead.

Instead she gives a small smile, looks at the list and tries to read his scribble upside-down. “So, anyway. Curtains. The ones in our room are far too see-through and I’m almost certain the old lady in the building next door has seen my boobs one too many times.”

Bellamy pauses, looking up to meet her eyes.

“Our room.” His quiet whisper barely audible above the noise around them. His face is soft, wistful. “It’s _our_ room. Can you believe it?”

This time Clarke doesn’t hold back. She leans up on her toes, wraps her hand around his neck and pulls him down for a kiss. “Yeah babe. Our room. Our apartment.” Her blue eyes are radiant, sparkling with happiness and love. “Our home.”

Bellamy chuckles softly, chases her lips one more time before resting his forehead on hers. “I know it’s already been a week since we moved in, but I still can’t believe we’re finally doing this. Together.”

Clarke nudges her nose against his. “Together.”

They’re able to savour the quiet moment for a few seconds more before someone inevitably bumps into them, breaking the spell and pulling them back to reality.

Bellamy grins as he pulls away. “Come on. Curtains can wait. Let’s get some food before it gets too busy.”

\---

Clarke can’t remember the last time she’d been to IKEA - probably around the time she finished college and moved in with Raven, so maybe a couple of years ago. After dating her best friend for over a year, they have finally picked out a new apartment for just the two of them. Moving in with her boyfriend is a huge step and naturally she has her anxieties about the whole thing, but because it’s Bellamy - it just feels _right_.

Thankfully, the restaurant area isn’t busy at all. They easily land a table by the window, peering through the catalogue while they dig into their lunch.

“Quiet today, isn’t it?” Bellamy glances around before returning his attention to the list of curtain fabric.

Clarke yanks the catalogue from him. “Read the not-so-fine-print, Bellamy. This lists pricing for the massive sale that ended two days ago.”

“Huh. That would explain why there are barely any people here today.” He frowns, stares at the front page. “Aw shit. Look at how cheap these chaise sofas are-- _were_. We definitely need a new one.”

“Ugh, yes please? Something that isn’t pleather and with washable covers.”

Bellamy screws up his nose. “I’d hate to know how much crap that old loveseat is festering.”

“Oooh, _festering_ \- that’s definitely the word I would use.” she gives him a look of mock disdain. “I’m sure there’s all sorts of stale crumbs, lost coins, spilled alcohol, food stains, body fluids..”

“Gross, stop!” he groans, pushes at his meatballs with a fork, clearly not in the mood for eating anymore. “I vote for a new sofa ASAP.”

“Yeah, something larger would be good too. What a difference it would make to our movie nights if we had one big enough to stretch our legs and lie down.”

“Mmm..” Bellamy pauses. He takes in Clarke’s questioning look with a playful smirk. “What a difference it would make... to our sex life.” His voice is lower, deeper, darker.

“Yeah? Like what?” Clarke shivers, slightly taken aback by this sudden change of conversation. She lowers her voice too, even though there is nobody in their vicinity close enough to hear. She feels the air shift between them. “Is our couch sex lacking?”

Bellamy doesn’t answer straight away. His eyes darken, brooding and intense.

“Fuck no. I fucking love it when you ride me. Love watching you take my cock, love watching you come.”

Fuck. _Shit_. Clarke narrows her eyes at him. “Bell, stop! Someone is gonna..” She takes a quick glance around the food court, mostly empty except for an employee cleaning up a table on the far end. She knows he’s going to scoff at her, but she says it anyway.

“You can’t talk like that here. Someone will hear us!” she hisses.

Right on cue, Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? You think they’ll hear you scream if I fingerfuck you under this table?”

_Godshitstopfuck_. That.. was not the answer she was expecting. How can he be so obscene in the middle of IKEA? What’s worse is - Clarke is acutely aware of the effect his words have on her. She whimpers quietly and squeezes her legs together, raunchy memories of her in his lap flooding her imagination. Bellamy licks his lips, and she unconsciously follows the drag of his tongue, imagines his mouth on her tits, his lips pressed into her wait no fuck stop _not here not now_.

As if he could read her mind, Bellamy presses on. “You say you want curtains to hide from our neighbours, but I know you’re actually into it.” He leans forward, drinking in the sight of her becoming more and more flustered. “I bet you’d scream if I took you here, up against the wall, behind some bookshelf somewhere, you’d beg me for more.”

Clarke flushes at his filthy words. She firmly shakes her head, determined not to give in. He can’t do this to her, not here out in the open. 

“How about we test out those mattresses? You’d get so wet, cunt out on display for everyone to see.” Bellamy continues, fully aware of her weakened state. “Or how about I fuck you on a sofa, huh? Break it in right here - your tits in my face and your ass in my hands. Don’t lie, you’d fucking _love_ it.”

Clarke gasps, tightens her fists on the table, accidentally knocking over her forgotten cup of coffee. A restaurant worker scurries over, offering to help clean up, effectively putting a stop to their lewd conversation.

... for now.

\---

After lunch, Clarke is hyper-aware of Bellamy. Every look, every movement, every small thing he does feels like a prelude to something else, pushing her into a growing state of vigilance, tempting her with increasing arousal. He touches her more - a gentle hand on her lower back, his fingers entwined with hers, a kiss pressed into her hair. He edges closer to talk to her, right near her face, brushing his lips against her ear, murmuring mundane comments about furniture in a low, gruff voice. It’s all subtle and completely acceptable public displays of affection, but Clarke can sense his intentions.

She’s waiting, watching, anticipating his next move.

The heat seems to simmer down the moment they get to the bedroom displays. Rows and rows of mattresses of different sizes and softness in all directions. Clarke expects him to grab her at any moment and slam her down on a random display bed. She keeps a wary eye zeroed in on Bellamy, watching him inspect the wide selection of textiles, sifting through the colours.

Slowly realising that her boyfriend appears more interested in touching fabrics rather than touching _her_, Clarke is surprised to find that she actually feels a bit disappointed. She can’t help but wonder how the bed sheets would feel if he were to press her into the bed, how her fingers would grip the headboard while he thrusts into her, how she’d muffle her screams into the pillow when he strokes her so perfectly to finally bring her to --

“Clarke? Earth to Clarke?”

Bellamy waves a hand in front of her. Dazed and slightly disoriented, Clarke blinks at him, feeling herself flush. She’s pretty sure she’s as red as the curtains he’s showing her.

“They’re not red, they’re salmon!” he chuckles, rolling his eyes at her - apparently she is so out of it that she didn’t even realise she was talking out loud. Crap. She hopes her more _colourful_ thoughts have been kept to herself.

They bicker about textile designs as they make their way across the showroom, moving from the bedroom to the living room area. A vast array of display suites are placed here and there, almost like it’s an actual home. Clarke admires the homely feel in the different examples, from rustic to modern to minimalist. She is so caught up in the designs that she doesn’t think twice when Bellamy plops down on a comfortable corner sofa, catching her by the wrist and dragging her down next to him.

“This is nice. Cozy.” he stretches his arm around Clarke, pulling her to his chest. “I can imagine this in our home.”

“I can imagine this too.” She nods, drinking in the homely setup. The sofa they’re sitting on is surrounded by pretty ferns and bookshelves. “This sofa feels just right.”

Bellamy slides his hand along her thigh. “Yeah? Wanna test it out?”

Clarke knows better. She should have seen this coming a mile away, but she is completely powerless when he slides his hand into her neck and pulls her into a slow kiss. Bellamy licks at her lips and she allows herself this one moment of indulgence, lets him deepen the kiss. Before she can protest, he reaches for her hips and drapes her legs over his, settling her into his lap. She finds herself straddling him, balancing on her knees, unwilling to part her lips with his.

His hands slide down her back, warm and steady until they rest on her hips. Clarke gasps, pressing her hands into his solid chest to lean back, effectively pushing her down against the hardening bulge beneath her. This is getting out of hand really fast. She’s wearing a skirt, and it’s splayed around her legs, hiding their indecency yet doing nothing to shield her from his jeans. She’s already wet, can feel her soaking through her panties, can feel his length against her pussy. She clenches her jaw, feels the carrot dangling in front of her, waiting for her to bite. 

She chances a quick glance around them - behind the sofa, there is a sheer screen curtain with some pot plants and a display shelf hiding them from the outside world. Thankfully, the sofa faces away from the entrance. She prays it’s enough to hide whatever dirty deeds Bellamy has planned.

Clarke squirms in his lap, wriggling her pelvis against his, hoping to relieve the pressure but only seeming to make it worse. Every movement, every shift of her hips drives her closer to his cock, the friction of denim sliding against the threadbare fabric of her panties. Bellamy wasn’t helping either, his large hands sliding down to firmly grip her ass, pulling her close against him.

“Fuck Clarke,” Bellamy groans into her neck, his nose nudging along her collar bone, making her shiver. “I’m so fucking hard. Been thinking about your cunt all day.”

She grits her teeth, struggling not to moan. She can feel her resolve falling, her breath ragged against his neck, feeling his pulse beat beneath her fingers. Despite her objections she knows just how wet she is, she knows how much her body wants this, wants more.

They’ve found a slow rhythm, a sweet gyration of hips undulating against each other. The noisy bustle of shoppers is so close - the possibility of getting caught makes it _so_ much hotter. Anyone could walk by at any moment, and here they are rutting together like horny teenagers.

A sudden thrust of Bellamy’s hips makes her let out a soft whine. Clarke shifts against him, feels her labia spread open with his cock perfectly slotted between her folds, the drag of his jeans bumping against her clit. She can't hold back the shudder that rakes through her body, arching her back to grind down on his lap. Fuck, she could come like this.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna come?” Bellamy growls against her skin. Clarke is so far gone that yet again she had voiced her thoughts out loud. She feels defeated, feels her body and mind surrendering to Bellamy. Fuck, her thoughts are filled with Bellamy. His lips, his cock, his hands. Oh _god_, his hands. Her skirt has ridden up her legs so far that his fingers have crept up to pull at the back of her panties, kneading the soft skin of her ass, pulling her to his cock, meeting the thrusts of his hips. “Wanna see you come right here. Come on, gonna make you feel good, gonna make sure everyone knows who this pussy belongs to.”

Oh yeah, everyone is going to know for sure. She’s fighting to hold back her voice, whimpering softly as she rocks against him, desperately chasing her climax. All thoughts of propriety have been thrown out the window - all she wants is pleasure.

Suddenly, she sees movement in the periphery of her vision. A hand pulls at the curtain before someone abruptly moves into the suite. The stranger looks at them, and Clarke loses control. It hits her all at once - the thrill of being caught in the act finally pulls the trigger. Her jaw drops in a silent scream as her orgasm rips through her body, her pussy clamping down on nothing as she jerks uncontrollably in Bellamy’s lap. Her body seizes up in pleasure, yet her eyes are locked on the red-faced stranger in front of her, awkwardly coughing and muttering an incomprehensible excuse before scrambling out of the suite.

Bellamy groans into her neck, kissing along her jaw before pulling back to look her. “Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot. Did we get caught?”

“Uh huh,” she mumbles. She can’t even form proper sentences, still feels boneless in his arms. She lazily fists her hands in his curly hair, pulls his lips to hers. Somehow, Clarke is even more turned on than before. She kisses him, slow and soft before building into something more dirty, tongues and teeth and muffled moans.

All her efforts to maintain composure and decorum are gone. She has been swept away in a tidal wave of pleasure, and she wants more. 

“That was so hot. I came when that man walked in,” Clarke whimpers into his lips, her voice still thick with want. Bellamy’s fingers are splayed out on her ass, and she bites his lips as she pushes back into his grip, moans when he holds her ass tighter. “Wanted him to see me come. Wanted him to know who fucks me right.”

Bellamy groans, chases her mouth as his fingers dip between her thighs, edging closer together until they reach her centre. “Fuck babe, look at you. You soaked through your panties, can feel you dripping on my cock.” He brushes the wet fabric aside, slides between her drenched folds.

Clarke moans into his mouth, bites down on his lips when she feels a thick finger enter her. “That’s all you, Bell. I’m wet for you.”

“That’s right, Clarke. This pussy is mine.” Bellamy slides one hand to her hip, while the other fucks into her, another finger joining to pump at a pulsing rhythm.

She’s so far gone, feels so fucked out, doesn’t even see a pair of customers walk into their suite until she hears their surprised gasps.

Her eyes fly open, only to see the back of their heads as they fumble their way out, pulling the curtain back to restore their privacy. It sends a jolt to her core, the thrill of exposure increasing her arousal. She feels her cunt jerk against his hand, a rush of wetness through her folds.

“So fucking sexy, Clarke. Look at this tight little pussy. It loves putting on a show, huh? You gonna come again, gonna show ‘em how you like to get fucked?”

She leans back, her nails digging into his shoulders as she circles her hips, grinds into his hand. Clarke feels her climax rising again, every flex of his fingers driving her higher. He presses against that spot that drives her wild, his thumb drawing circles around her clit as she begins to fall to pieces.

Distantly, she can hear the soft chatter of shoppers, sees footsteps behind the curtains and she holds her breath, her heart thumping out of her chest and her blood rushes through her body. At that very moment, Bellamy pushes his thumb on her throbbing clit, sending her over the edge. The approaching footsteps are forgotten as she came, a keening moan escaping her lips as her vision blacks out. Bellamy continues to pump through her orgasm, fingers all slick and messy and so fucking perfect, drawing out her pleasure to its limit. She collapses in his arms, sated and relaxed.

“That’s what… second? Third time we’ve been caught? You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

Clarke laughs, softly punching him in the shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re not getting off on this too.”

Bellamy’s eyes twinkle with mischief, pressing his lips against hers. It’s slow and deep and still heavy with desire, punctuated by a swift roll of his hips. Clarke gasps into his mouth, her cunt oversensitive. She can feel his cock still hard against her.

She snakes a hand down to cup him, relishing in the thickness between his legs as she leans back, taking in his dishevelled appearance. She had been gripping his hair so tight that his curls are flying in all different directions, and his lips are swollen and red and so irresistible that she kisses him again, opening her mouth to draw him into a wet and dirty kiss, reigniting the fire between them again. She gives his cock a firm tug before sliding off his lap, a sly grin growing on her face as she takes in the wet patch she has left on the denim. Her eyes are locked onto his while she slowly unzips his jeans, freeing his cock.

“Look at how hard you are, baby. You’re definitely into this.” Clarke looks up at him, her lips grazing his tip as she whispers softly before she slides him into her mouth.

The way he groans out her name does something to her, and she’s so caught up in the weight of his cock on her tongue and the possessive grip of his hands on her head that she fails to hear approaching voices. She only notices the poor couple when she licks up his length, finally acknowledging her audience as they lock eyes. The two men are red as tomatoes when she pulls back with a pop, and Clarke can see one of them adjusting his pants as her tongue circles Bellamy’s tip, gives them a wink before she deepthroats him again.

She’s into it now, loves having an extra pair of eyes on her, slides a hand down to finger herself while she sucks him off. Bellamy doesn’t hold back his throaty moans and when he tightens his fist in her hair Clarke lets out a low-pitched whine. She teases his balls, licks up the length of him, looks up to meet his dark gaze as her throat reverberates around his cock. The moment their eyes meet is what pushes him over the edge, shooting his come down her throat as his eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. She eagerly swallows, savouring the taste of his come as he rides his high, gently pulling up and releasing him from her lips. She looks over his shoulder, realising the couple from before have already left, and she grins wondering if they enjoyed her performance.

Clarke smirks, pushes herself upright. She scrunches up her nose as she feels her sopping wet panties. Before she can change her mind she’s pulling them down her legs, wriggling out of them before slipping them into Bellamy’s pocket. His softening cock jerks with interest, and he can’t wipe the stupid grin off his face as he tucks himself back in, can’t help sliding a hand up her thigh, can’t stifle the groan as he sees a fresh surge of wetness dribble down her legs.

They quickly fix themselves up, wipe up any come off the couch and straighten the disarrayed cushions, trying to restore a semblance of decency to the defiled display suite. Then it’s a rush of bookshelves, curtains and lamps, Bellamy practically dragging her through the store until she’s pressed up against a wall, in some bedroom display suite with a grand deluxe wardrobe door swung open and she’s pressed into the side or the corner, she can’t figure it out but she knows she’s barely hidden from view as he hikes up her skirt, bends down to kiss her exposed pussy lips before he unzips his pants and drives his thick cock into her. Clarke yelps, scrambles against the shadows of the shelves, leans into the assembled structure as she pushes her ass back, meets his thrusts, feels the tension building inside once more.

The chatter of shoppers surrounds them, she knows there is a huge chance someone will see them, and she can feel the coil tighten within her, every nerve in her body is alive in heightened awareness. She feels nothing but Bellamy, but at the same time she can feel everything at once, her surroundings giving her an intense focus on how he’s making her feel, as if her awareness of the world makes her senses hone in on here and now and Bellamy. They are fully clothed yet her skin is burning with pleasure, and his grip on her hips and his breath on her neck makes her shiver, and he fucks her so good, so fucking good.

She can hear someone enter their suite, can hear their voices just a few feet away, nothing but a wardrobe door and some ferns separating them from prying eyes. She thinks someone sees them, she can hear a gasp and a scurry of footsteps, but she doesn’t care, she loves it, makes her breath catch in her throat and her pussy tighten. Bellamy can feel it too; his nails dig into her skin and he leans into her, bites down on her shoulder as he starts to lose rhythm. She knows he’s about to come and it’s the anticipation, the thought of his come in her cunt and their combined come between her legs without her panties under her flimsy skirt for everyone to see and - fuck, that does it for her, and she comes hard, doesn’t bother to hold back her moans when she feels him shoot his come into her.

They collapse against the wall, sated and spent. She pulls her skirt down and he zips up his pants and they make out for a bit, slow and lovingly and they lose track of time. Someone actually pulls at the wardrobe, exposes them to the world, but they’re now just a silly couple locking lips behind furniture.

Clarke vaguely remembers that they came to the store with an intention to buy things, but that’s all long forgotten as they dawdle through the warehouse, holding hands and smiling at each other. They end up buying a mix of random candy and some hot dogs, sitting outside as they eat and share a giant soda. Clarke sits with her legs crossed, and Bellamy snickers at her when she discreetly unfolds her legs before standing up, his eyes darting to the alluring view beneath her skirt, knows the scent of their come drying between her thighs.

The trip might have been unproductive but Clarke doesn’t care. They end up ordering online anyway. Bellamy fortunately still has his list, and they’ve made sure to include _that_ comfortable chaise sofa from _that_ particular living room suite. Clarke can’t wait to assemble it so they can fuck on it again.

(They manage to find replacement curtains for their bedroom, but they’re almost if not even more sheer than their previous ones. Bellamy isn’t complaining and Clarke might act scandalised but they both know the truth - she fucking _loves_ it.)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments feed my soul


End file.
